The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai
by Phr Lt Nkkd
Summary: King Elessar has lost his mind and sent seven of his closest friends on a quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai. Trouble is, the Chastfire forest wants to hinder and drive them to insanity. [Slash: FaramirEomer] Don't like? Go away
1. Enter the Snails of Chastfire

'The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'

**Day one: Enter the Snails of Hell**

For the gazillionth time today, Faramir of Gondor groaned. _The King must be getting senile,_ he thought vehemently. He and six others were camping out on the fields of Rohan, on their way to the land of Mikhai, in search of (he shuddered) the fabled Rubber Chickens of old. 

What are the 'Rubber Chickens of old', you ask? (At this point there was a collective shudder amongst the seven people). 

Before the age of Men, and even Elves, there was a race long forgotten: the Mikhai Rubber Chickens. Sure, they looked like chickens at first, but with a closer inspection, you would see that they indeed, were not. In addition to being made of rubber, these chickens had mysterious healing abilities in their bodies, which made them virtually immortal. (Only a quick death would ensure a dead Chicken, otherwise they can regenerate). Along with this, they had the ability to help a person find his or her soul mate. With their healing abilities, the Chickens lived long into the age of Men. Then they died out. 

The Elves had long taken care of these legendary Chickens, for the revered them; and used them for healing the sick or wounded. But the men were much more greedy than that. They enslaved the Chickens, and used their powers to gain power themselves: thus eventually killing the race of the Rubber Chickens. But all was not lost.

Two young Chickens, (a hen and rooster, obviously) had hid from the Men with the help of the Elves, and lived on, producing many young. They were protected in the forest of Mikhai by dozens upon dozens of intricate spells that could make an expert navigator lose his trail; a swordsman lose the remembrance of his techniques, and a wise man lose his sanity. The present day elves dared not enter the forest at this point; these spells were too ancient to be tampered with. It is here that the story really begins.

But Aragorn, son of Arathorn did not think so. "Just use your magic stuff," he instructed a petrified Legolas who stood with his hands crossed behind his back at Aragorn's throne.

"Aragorn, my dear..." Arwen started to say, but then her voice faded to nothing. She and Legolas both knew that the Chickens could inspire a mad resolve even in such a sensible King as he.

"The Rubber Chickens would lead Gondor into a glorious new age," he said, staring at her. "You see it, do you not?"

"Yes I do. But you remember what happened to our witness? The one who saw the Chickens in the first place? He now has some chronic genital disease, and he fancies that wretched armadillo."

"Who knew that one could have an armadillo soul mate," Legolas claimed reverently.

Aragorn cocked his head to the side. "I don't see any problem with that."

"What I'm trying to say is," Arwen tried desperately, "you could be sending these people into certain insanity."

"Then let's go! Send our most strong-willed soldiers out there."

Faramir, who was standing to the side with his jaw agape, next to a considerably sick looking Èomer, caught Legolas's eye. At the time he recalled thinking, _this is not good. This is NOT good._

Damn right it wasn't good. Now, even Pippin, who would by nature not be changed much by the effects of the forest and the Chickens within it, seemed a little tense. But Merry lent him some of what he was smoking though and soon both of the hobbits were having fun somewhere in the stratosphere.

He wished he were a hobbit. He wished that he had no problems with having a smoke only hours before they started their journey again. He wished... oh, he didn't know what he wished for anymore.

And so, here they were, in the middle of Rohan with nothing but each other for company. Surprisingly enough, the King himself had opted not to come, causing a surge of anger through the men.

Well, it wasn't right to say 'Men', because there was a woman, Elf, Dwarf and two Hobbits as well. Yes, Èowyn, Èomer, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin had been chosen for this quest. Not something they wanted to do in their spare time. 

But back to their predicament.

Èomer looked at the sulking Gondorian.

"Oh, cheer up, you pansy. It's not like there's a chance of us actually seeing these damn Chickens. All we have to do is stay here for a bit, then go back to Gondor pretending like we've been there!" he declared proudly, slapping Faramir so hard on the back that he choked on his water as he thrust forward. "Right?" no response. "Right?" he asked in a meeker voice.

Èowyn glowered. She stood up gracefully and slapped her dear brother upside his head. "Wrong! You know good and well Lord Aragorn will known whether we have been to Mikhai or not. Act like a man for God's Sake!"

"He'll be able to tell if we've been to Mikhai or not judging by the number of tentacles growing on our backs," Èomer said playfully, but then frowned, considering the believability in the sentence. All of them slumped into a worried silence for a few minutes.

"Well," mumbled Gimli, stroking his beard, "we'd best get started early. Who knows how long we'll be in that place."

"Who knows if we'll come out," replied Faramir tragically. Èowyn put her arm over his shoulders stiffly, as if she figured it was the proper thing to do but wasn't able to feel the emotion in it.

"I'm sure Lord Aragorn would be able to do this quest without a doubt in his mind. You can measure up to the same, certainly?"

A stroke of pain coursed through his body, and suddenly Faramir was overwhelmed with the feeling of deja vu. This same thing had happened before. It had happened over and over before during the time that Denethor showed favoritism to Boromir. _You must try to measure up to him. Can't you measure up to him? You're impossible, boy, you can never measure up to him._

That ice in his eyes struck Èowyn with startling coldness. Pride took over the urge to say sorry though, and she turned her head away. Èomer watched this exchange with careful observance.

Then the sun rose above the fields of Gondor with warmth and promise, casting the entire realm into a fresh new gold. It took place in only a matter of minutes and the travelers felt somewhat renewed.

"Ah," Legolas sighed. "Let's get packed up."

Gimli cast a glance at the assortment of tents around them. "Now where are those damn hobbits?"

The others looked around as well. Neither of the two were anywhere to be seen.

"Merry? Pippin?" Èowyn yelled, looking about the fields of Rohan for any moving bodies. None came. Ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of the Hobbits. 

"I swear when we find those two I am going to slit both of their throats!" Gimli grumbled, looking downcast. 

"Wait a minute," Legolas said, ears perking up visibly. "I know exactly where they are!" he stated, triumph visible in his tone.

"Then lead us to them so that we may get on with this blasted mission, dammit!" Èomer snapped. Elven pride hurt, Legolas walked the few steps to one of the tents and pulled back the flap, revealing the two 'missing' Hobbits sound asleep. Pippin was snoring.

Gimli was enraged. He barreled into the tent and pulled the Hobbit's out by their toes, swinging them around.

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up, damn you!" and he let them fly. The landed a good five feet away with a considerable amount of 'oomph!'.

"Aww, Gimli, pity what those Chickens gone and done to you," Pippin mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "You're starting to get hair around your nose, see Merry, hasn't he got a bunch of fur around his nose?"

Merry blinked. "That is just nose hair, Pippin."

Gimli, who was usually quite proud of his outrageous amount of hair now had a look of rage about him that was more suitable for a fire dragon. Èomer had to grab hold of the dwarf before he set after the two hobbits with sure means of murder.

"You know they've been smoking the herb," Èomer consoled him, although it did little in that regard. Gimli turned and stomped out of the tent, shouting something about them having to be ready to leave in five minutes or else.

"Well look who's decided to take authority," Èowyn said, smiling gently at her husband, who still did not have the heart to look at her.

_What kind of relationship was this?_ He kept wondering_. How could it work if she still loved another man, and a more worthy man at that?_ Although as he continued thinking about it, he wasn't sure how greatly he was in love with her either.

Èomer sensed his struggle and clasped Faramir's shoulder briefly as he stepped out of the tent to follow the determined dwarf. The warmth of his hand sent electricity down Faramir's cold spine, igniting a spark within him. A spark of energy, he figured. He was energized enough to move forward.

A few minutes later (much to the relief of everyone; Gimli was still bitching to himself), they were saddled on the horses and riding to the East; to Mikhai (or at least the rumored location). 

Legolas and the horse lord rode up front, with the two Hobbits behind, Èowyn and Gimli behind them and Faramir bringing up rear guard. 

_Of course, _he thought bitterly, glancing up at the procession before him. _I'm always dead last_.

Up front, Merry and Pippin had started one of the songs from the Shire. 

The Road goes ever on and on 

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with weary feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way,_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._

"A choice song for this journey, young Hobbits." Èomer complimented, glancing back for a moment. Then he looked back at Faramir who rode with his head down. He spoke a word to Legolas before turning his horse and walking it to the back with Faramir. 

"I see how it ails you whenever you look upon my sister as of late," he spoke as casually as the sentence could be uttered, with his head facing forward.

"Èowyn is not the root of any of my problems," Faramir replied automatically. "She is a blessing for any man to know as you and I do. I am grateful to have her in my life."

"Stop with the bullshit," said Eomer amiably.

"..."

"She is still after Aragorn and we both know it."

"Ok fine," Faramir said haughtily. This man saw way too much.

"Normally I would support my sister in this matter, or just leave it alone, but I can sense how it hurts you. It is not fair to her or to you to have the relationship this way, and I just wanted to let you know that if the time comes for you to break it off with her, I will not kill you."

"Gee, thanks buddy."

"It's no problem."

Faramir felt Elmer's gaze upon him and had the irresistible urge to look back at him, to look back at the sunshine that reflected in his eyes. When he did though there was almost a physical feeling of heat between them, so intense that they both had to turn away. Both pretended that nothing had happened, but somehow Faramir knew that Èomer was blushing.

Coughing slightly, Eomer returned to the head of the troop, leaving a puzzled Gondorian behind. Faramir sighed. 

The seven friends continued on heading through Rohan, pausing only twice to give the horses a rest and to make camp. Then they turned northeast, heading to the Chastfire forest. They made camp for the third time just outside the woods.

Legolas stood for a moment and look up at the trees. He cocked his head to one side and appeared to be listening to something. 

"What is it?" Èowyn asked quietly, coming up beside the Elf. He shook his head.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He replied sourly. "These trees seem dead. I can hear nothing, not the call of a bird or the whisper of the wind. It's creepy." He shuddered and walked back to the Dwarf who was looking for scattered wood to light a fire with (he had learned his lesson at Fangorn, obviously). 

Eomer and the Hobbits were scouting around a bit, looking for signs that they were in danger. No one really felt like setting up a watch that night. Boromir's brother sat staring into space, oblivious to everything. 

When they bedded down that night, only Legolas was awake, unnerved by the silence of Chastfire. The rest were lulled to sleep by his Elvish song; which he sang not only to comfort the others, but himself as well. 

_I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:_

_Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew._

_Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea, _

_And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree._

_Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone._

_In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion._

_There the long golden leaves have grown upon the branching year,_

_While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears._

_O Lòrien! The Winter comes, the care and leafless day;_

_The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away._

_O Lòrien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore_

_And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor._

_But if ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,_

_What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?_

Pippin, who had been wide awake, closed his eyelids and went right asleep, his head falling into Merry's lap.

"This is why he never was able to read a full book," Merry grumbled, wondering who would be generous enough to help carry the hobbit back to their tent. Then his eyes started to close as well.

Faramir blatantly pondered the relationship between those two. Their love for each other almost surrounded them both like a rosy aura; more than just friendship, certainly. Hobbits were such queer folk. He loved them.

Unfortunately such relationships weren't as accepted in the world of men. It was such a shame, and not very logical either because if a man can love an armadillo, can't he love another man? What was less logical was the fact that as soon as he thought of this, an image of Eomer flashed through his mind.

Maybe the forest was working on him already.

"That was a lovely song," Eomer piped up, catching Faramir's attention.

"It's a very old song too," said Legolas.

Then suddenly there was a gust of wind that shocked them with its coldness. It had the velocity of a wind, which would be felt at the peaks of Caradhras, and the damp, stale odor of Moria's lightless depths. It came very strongly from the forest with the feeling of change and doom.

"Ok," said Gimli, "I'm going to bed. Sweet dreams!"

"I'll be right after you," Eomer stated.

Faramir looked around him. "And I with you."

"But what about the hobbits?" Legolas cried as the three jogged away.

"They'll take lookout," Gimli shouted back at him. 

Legolas sighed and said a silent prayer as he went to bed for the two hobbits that were sleeping at the entrance of the forest. That night for all of them brought strange dreams and very little sleep. So it was no wonder, the next day that they weren't able to prevent what was coming before it happened.

Faramir supposed that when it first started happening, they were at the rim of the woods, just barely entering the thick of the forest. It was damp and there were lots of insects and little creatures scurrying around, enjoying the energy that day brought to them. None of the crew paid any attention to the increasing amount of slime over the forest floor.

"Funny, this place doesn't feel enchanted at all," Legolas, said with apparent relief. "Maybe the Chickens are feeling generous."

Èowyn nodded. "God bless the Chickens."

"You're beginning to sound more like What's-his-Face everyday," Faramir snapped at her.

"Whom are you talking about?" she questioned with forceful disbelief and innocence.

"Aargh, the King."

"Thank you," was the response, with a pleased smile. She must have thought her inner feelings for the man did not show through.

Faramir sighed and ran his hands through his hair. This emotional default was driving him crazy! ...not to mention the itch on his neck. 

"Hey…Faramir…you got something on the back of your neck…" was all the warning he got before something was tugged painfully –not to mention slimily) from the back of his neck. He visibly winced and grimaced at the sick sound the creature made. The Captain of Gondor turned around to face Eomer, who was holding what looked like a rainbow snail in his hands. Slime was oozing from the bottom of it.

"Yech!" Pippin yelled, pulling one off of his chest. The disgusted sounds coming from the others was all the proof needed to see that they were covered in snails, too.

Èowyn, losing all pride, was dancing around in circles beating at her dress and wailing. Looking at her ankles, Gimli could see that some of the snails had decided to make themselves known…right up her dress. 

Snails of all colors seemed to be dropping from the sky onto the seven friends. Soon, they were adept to running, screaming, and pulling snails off of one another for a few minutes. They stopped when they reached a slime-free clearing, and immediately began plucking the disgusting creatures off. After each one was pulled off, it was thrown deep into the forest from whence they came. Eomer and Faramir had the worst of it, however as two snails managed to find their way into the men's mouths. The slime tasted like shit.

"My hair is covered in slime! UGH!" Legolas yelled, running his hands through his beautiful hair. Èowyn was running her hands over her body, checking for more snails, Merry and Pippin were shuddering visibly as far away from the forest as could possibly be, Eomer and Faramir were retching and Gimli was chuckling lightly.

"Well! That's something to get the blood pumping! Let's move on!"

"Not before I rinse my hair!" Legolas declared imperially. 

"And exactly where do we expect to wash all of this off?" Èowyn said in a half cry, half moan. "There hasn't been any water in sight!"

"The snails are talking to me!"

"We better go find it somewhere, because I am NOT taking on more of this until my hair's had a good wash!" Legolas shouted back.

"You're more of a girl than me!"

"It's called hygiene, you twisted, cross-dressing heifer!"

"Oh my," Faramir murmured, but pretended to be heavily involved in pulling a slug out of his pants so it would not be his duty to stand up for his wife. He could tell that Eomer was doing the same.

"The snails are talking to me guys!"

"Ooooh, you're gonna get it, she-man."

Just as Èowyn lunged at Legolas, Peregrin Took jumped between them, slugs wriggling all over his body.

Èowyn looked down at him. "Pippin dear, sit down and please take those slugs off while I make a mess of Legolas's baby blue eyes, will you?"

"I said they're talking to me!" he exclaimed proudly.

"Of course. Just sit down for a minute."

"I say he's finally, really, lost it," Merry said sadly.

"No! The slugs are attendants to the Chickens!"

"Come on Pippin," said Merry, dragging his friend by a slime-covered elbow, "let's talk some sanity into you, and get those slugs off."

"Really! I'm dead serious!"

"That's what scares me."

"Actually," came Eomer's voice, feigning ignorance to the fact that Èowyn and Legolas were fighting, "it wouldn't surprise me that he could talk to animals in this place. What are they saying, Pippin?"

"The Chickens of Mikhai do not want to be taken from their home, and wish us to leave before the ancient spells take hold of us." He motioned with an oozy finger to the variety of slug colors on his shoulder and neck. "The slugs have not only come to warn us of this, but also wanted to give us a little taste of it for extra measure."

Faramir and Eomer still literally had that taste in their mouths, and both mumbled something about the slimy little assholes. Pippin heard it.

"They're actually good guys," he said defensively.

"Yeah, and I sleep with Eomer." Faramir had to blink at that statement along with everyone else. Where in all of Gondor had that statement come from?

"You do?" Pippin squeaked.

"Of course not, you fool!" (of a Took)

"Then why did you say it?" 

"To prove you are lying."

"But I'm not. So that means…"

"You really DO sleep with Eomer!" Merry declared. Said man looked at the Hobbits with a death glare. Faramir slapped his forehead in exasperation. 

"You god damned fools!" Gimli roared stomping over to them. He grabbed them both by their ears and dragged them over to a corner and yelled at them a bit more. Legolas and Èowyn continued their argument while Faramir and Eomer sat side by side on the grass, wishing they had never taken this quest. Suddenly, a little snail made itself known by crawling up the Stewards leg. 

"Augh!" he scrambled backwards until he hit a solid mass of human body. Eomer scowled and looked at what startled Faramir. The snail turned its antennae towards them and spoke:

_Ah, it seems you have ingested some of the mucus left behind by my brothers. You know you are both cursed now, right?_

"How did you know?" Faramir asked, clueless.

_There is some on your chin._

Something clicked in Eomer's head. "Cursed? What do you mean cursed?" he demanded, grabbing the snail off of Faramir's inner thigh with an audible 'POP'.

_Ah, so you don't know. Well, by ingesting a Mikhai Snail's mucus, you are doomed to a life of insanity unless…_

(At this point, both Eomer and Faramir panicked, causing Eomer to squeeze our poor snail buddy to death. We had to spend ten minutes finding a replacement.)

"Unless what!" Faramir yelled, bringing his youthful face close to the slimy creatures'.

_Unless, you find your soul mate._

//

Author's Notes: Good? Bad? Do you honestly care? Please leave a review so I know whether to continue. Oh, just one thing. Don't take this story seriously. It's meant to be humorous and out of place. It will contain lovely slash…betcha can't guess who.


	2. Enter the Chasttrap

'The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'

**Day Four: Enter the Chast-trap**

It was some hours later that Faramir and Èomer awoke. Night had settled, and the rest of their friends were still bickering. They seemed to have found a river or stream, however, because Legolas had no slime in his hair, and there were damp cloths across their brows. 

Faramir of Gondor was the first to stir. Gingerly he sat up, wondering why he was out in the first place. 

_Oh, yeah. That damn telekinetic snail. Now…what did he say again?_

_That we were cursed to insanity until we found our soul mate?  _

He jolted forward and swung around to look at Èomer, who was just sitting up.

"What did you say?" Faramir demanded, glaring at Èomer. The Rohirrim looked clueless.

Suddenly, Legolas shouted and stood forcefully. 

"You inconceivable wench! You are only here because Aragorn and Faramir wished it, and you have the nerve to talk like that!" Èomer growled and pushed himself up off the ground. He stalked toward the ranting Elf and grabbed him by the hair, sufficiently pulling him to the ground. 

"Ouch," Faramir mouthed as he stood and wiped away some of the snail slime. It shimmered blue-green in the dotted moonlight that reached the forest's depths, and was actually quite a pretty thing if it did not smell so bad. Maybe if it smelled of patchouli, or something nice and fresh that didn't come out of a snail's ass... if it were all over Èomer's muscle-clad body...

Lord, he knew he must have to be insane to think such a thing. The snail's magic was working on him! He knew it! Under no normal circumstances would he picture... Èomer naked under the moonlight, his body reflecting the shine and shimmer of exotic oil...

NO! NEVER would he think that. He was going insane. Damn snails, they really were making him go insane.

"I have good news, Faramir," Pippin said, rushing up to him all of a sudden. "It takes a week for the snail's magical venom to get to your head. You're not going insane, not yet at least."

Faramir blinked.

"Faramir? Happy-happy Faramir?"

Faramir crashed to the ground.

Everyone but Èomer and Legolas rushed to the Captains side. The two were still wrestling with each other, Èomer clearly on the losing side. 

"Oh my," Èowyn exclaimed in her most feminine voice, "I wonder what has happened to my husband? Did the snails get him?"

"I tell you, the snails are good guys!" Pippin whined.

Merry pondered. "But maybe their poison had some other side effects."

"Or maybe he just fainted," Gimli suggested.

"Faramir would never just faint," argued Merry.

"He's probably had little sleep, and then he had a bunch of snails in his mouth, I'm sure that would get to anyone," Èowyn said logically but with a bit of distaste, the look on her face reading that she would never feel completely safe about kissing him again (of course disregarding the fact that SHE was the one with the snails making themselves at home up her skirt).

"Let's get him back to the tent," grumbled Gimli, not meaning himself of course, but the other two men. "Èomer! Legolas! Break it up, you blonde prissies! Help us out here!"

Ironically it was Èomer sitting down next to Faramir when he next woke up. Faramir moaned and willed himself to pass out again. Of course, the first thing the Rohirrim did was move himself closer to Faramir's side.

He laid a hand upon the man's brow and looked into his eyes, searching for any signs that he may pass out again. There were none, thankfully. "How're you feeling?" Èomer asked softly. 

Faramir resisted the urge to groan again at the feeling of Èomer's hand on his body and the insolence of him at the same time. "I feel like I've been hit over the head a few times with an Orc. I have fainted twice in less than a day, eaten snail slime, and my wife is acting like she is pregnant! How do you think I'm feeling?"

Èomer cringed a bit at the crisp; cut tone Faramir used, but ignored them.

"This forest is going to get us all," he said softly, as if the trees that rasped and wailed outside the tent were eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Damn Chickens."

"I would not damn the Chickens if I were you! They know all!"

"Jesus, you're beginning to sound like your sister."

"Can I help it?" he mused. "She's out there dancing around the fire with Pippin at this moment, singing a Chicken chant. It goes like this: Huuuna Cawoooona Chickenchicken AYE AYE-"

"Aaaagh! NO! No chicken! Please no chicken!"

Èomer put a hand over his mouth instinctively. "Whoops... It's just kind of catchy..."

"And I thought you were one of the saner ones here," Faramir said. He couldn't help but grin a little. Èomer actually laughed. 

"Well, my friend, you clearly thought wrong. With a sister as she, you tend to pick up a few…inhumane thoughts. Do not worry, though. I'm sure it'll pass,"

Faramir sighed and laid back down, shielding his eyes. "We should get going as soon as possible. Those damnable Chickens won't find themselves."

"Nay, the certainly won't. They'll probably find us before we can find them," he stood and offered Faramir a gentle helping hand up. "And if that does happen, I think we're screwed." 

The moment their bare hands touched, a spark shot through their arm, tingling as if it had just woken up. Both men tried to ignore it as the Rohirrim pulled the Captain to his feet. That was when Faramir made his fatal mistake: he looked into Èomer's stormy eyes. Their grasp on reality was amazing. Faramir felt as if he could see through the man's eyes into a different realm. So caught up was he in Èomer's storm-cloud eyes, that he hadn't realized the King of Rohan had pulled him into a possessive embrace.

The warmth of the other man's body was so overwhelming to him then, temporarily filling the hole in Faramir's soul with the feeling of a hot bath. His muscles relaxed as Èomer held him close. Then his other senses came to focus; the fresh, clean scent about him, how his cheek felt as it was nestled in between Èomer's neck and shoulder, how sexually excited he began to feel as he realized he was pressed tightly against this man's body.

WHOA, his mind told him, back off… especially before Èomer felt how turned on Faramir was getting.

Faramir gently pulled away to the air, which was too cold without the warmth of the King of Rohan. Someone coughed behind them. Surprised, Èomer and Faramir jerked away from each other, dropping hands immediately. It was Merry.

"Not interrupting anything, I hope?" he asked with a slight hint of a smirk. Both men in front of him tried desperately to his their blushes. 

"No! Èomer was just…just…"

"Helping him out of bed!" Èomer spoke up helpfully. 

"Yes, helping me up."

"Right then…" Merry said raising a slender eyebrow. "Anyway, Gimli asked me to come get you two, we're ready to set off again." He turned and walked back out.

The Captain of Gondor turned to speak again with Èomer, but the other man had already disappeared out of the tent. Faramir sighed. What the hell was happening to him? Gathering up his things, he walked out of the tent and toward the edge of the wood where the others were awaiting him. 

"Took you long enough," Èowyn said tartly. Faramir grimaced. What the hell crawled up her skirt? Oh, yeah…the snails…He smirked. 

"Right then!" Gimli coughed loudly. "Let's get going!"

With that he turned sharply on his heel and stalked off into the beckoning darkness. Èowyn and Èomer followed him, Legolas, Merry, Pippin and Faramir following quickly. Unfortunately, they forgot about the tent. 

A small creature poked its head around the side of the tent, snickering softly. Stealthily, it dove into the tent followed by a few other shadows. 

_Dumb humans._

 Resolute on what they were to do, the shadows turned away, following the group in the waning night.

"Pippin, stop swimming around," Merry wailed, splashing after his fellow hobbit friend who was now doing somersaults under the water. The sulfurous odor of the swamp wafted up in the form of curling steam, which writhed and twisted as if in agony in the sultry weather. That was exactly how every single one of the team felt that smoldering day, and the stench of the swamp did not help either.

Except for Pippin, it seemed. With an excited yelp and a sickening splash, his hobbit self tumbled into the waist-high waters. That would mean the crown of a hobbit's head. Peregrin Took splashed about, sputtering for breath. "M-M-M-erry!" 

"Save us all from this inhumane torture and drag him from the water, somebody!" Gimli roared, scattering some firewood. Briefly, Legolas looked up before walking to the water and grabbing the little Hobbit by the hood of his cloak and yanking him out easily. The Elven prince ungracefully threw Pippin to the waterside, next to his cousin. Merry sighed and shook his head. 

"Fool of a Took," he jested. Pippin scowled. 

Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit

****

The croaking sound of frogs filled the night air, putting everyone into a stupor. Even Legolas was stumbling around, drunkenly. **__**

****

**_Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit_**

****

It was a matter of minutes before all seven were in a deep sleep, entangled in one another.

One by one the frogs appeared from behind shrubs, out of the swamp, and gliding down from the tips of trees. They lit up the dark sky like individual flames, spiraling down towards the masses of human bodies that lay scattered about on the ground. Although glowing in appearance from afar, if a human saw one up close its eyes would be made of ruby. In fact they sparkled red through the pressing darkness of the woods.

Webbed wrings carried the shimmering green creatures to the group and their unnaturally big amphibious flippers. The red eyes blinked at their captives repeatedly.

_We have successfully led them to the Chicken Coop_, the grossly enlarged leader commended with a series of ribbits and grunts._ From here on they will not escape while under our guard until the Chickens arrive to deal with them._

The frogs cheered louder and louder until the entire forest was captivated with eerie, deafening ribbits.

The humans, Hobbits, Elf and Dwarf remained stilled, still succumbed to sleep. 

_That seemed a bit too easy._ One of the lesser frogs commented to the leader. 

King Felligrhan let out one big, ribbiting belch in response. _There isn't anything to worry about, Yugli. What harm could they possible do?_

Now, at this moment, everyone please take a moment to prepare themselves for the take back of those words King Fellighan so kindly put out for us in the next chapter of **The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai: Enter the Chickens at Last**

//

Author's Notes: Like it? Leave it? Lemme know…yeah it's shorter than the last one, but hopefully the next chapter will be longer…


	3. Enter the Chickens at Last!

  
'**The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'****  
  
  
  
Day seven: Enter the Chickens at Last!  
**  
  
Now, hopefully you all have taken the time to say your prayers for the leader of the Cawona tribe? If not...well it's too late for that.  
  
Dawn arose, bleak and slow. The wire of the Chicken Coop was illuminated brilliantly and the scattered straw on the floor was turned a dull yellow. In the corner, a pot of water, wood, stones, and a few rabbits had been placed (it was assumed that this was to be breakfast, of course). And we can't forget the most important part of the trap: the gaggle of sad-sucks inside.   
  
Gimli was piled atop of poor Legolas, who had a few limbs trapped underneath the Lady Èowyn. Blonde hair was strewn all over the place. Pippin's legs were entangled with Faramir's, who in turn was wrapped in Èomer's arms, and Merry was at the top of the dog pile, sleeping spread-eagle unperturbed.  
  
** Ribbit-ribbit-ribbit-ribbit**  
  
The haunting sound of the Cawona filled the air as a loud screech. Legolas was the first to awake, his sensitive Elf-ears taking the brunt of the sound. He jolted up violently, shoving Èowyn off of him. She let out a shriek muffled by Gimli's beard and toppled out of the pile. Due to the law of force, a chain reaction started.   
  
First, Pippin's legs were removed roughly from the safety of Faramir's and he toppled to the ground, still snoring. Then, Èomer and Faramir fell to the ground, limbs entangling even more. It seems the Rohirrim did not want to let go of the Gondorian any time soon. Merry, well...he hung suspended in the air for a few moments before gravity took over and he fell on top of Legolas harshly, still sleeping.   
  
The Elf, Woman, and Dwarf groaned in annoyance.   
_  
Wake up, lazy good-for-nothings._  
  
Legolas was on his feet in an instant, reaching for arrows that were not there. He cursed loudly in Elvish, startling Gimli out of his stupor. He jumped up, looking wildly around for the Elven attack. It would have been humorous, except for the fact that he tripped over Èowyn, making her jump up and start screaming at the nearest person, who happened to be Pippin. Peregrin Took could only sit there rubbing his eyes sleepily, mumbling something about breakfast. Èomer and Faramir and Merry were the only ones spared in this reaction, somehow.  
  
_ Oh, would you quit your yelling already! Your giving me a headache! I don't want to have to take another spawn bath! Damn!__  
_  
Startled gasps went up around, save the three still asleep, and all eyes went to the round frog in front of them.  
_  
There, that's better. My wife does enough yelling, I don't need Men yelling, too. Now, wake the other three. I have news that might interest you._   
  
Gimli turned and looked at the Men and Hobbit still lying asleep. If he knew anything about Èomer, waking him up before he wanted to get up would be common suicide. Best let the Woman wake them.  
  
"Well, Lady Èowyn, he's your husband and brother. Best you wake them. Pippin, get Merry up. What are you waiting for? Move!"  
_  
I said no yelling!_   
  
Èowyn looked horrified. Wake her brother? She might as well write her will here and now. Well, there's no time like the present. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to her brother's sleeping form with her head held high. Both his arms were wrapped possessively around Faramir's slim waist; in a way her husband used to hold her. On the other hand, Faramir had one arm looped around Èomer's bicep, and the other around his neck, like he was going to kiss him. Both lips were parted slightly.   
  
Now, how to go about it...? Ah, yes. Acting like a rabid fangirl, Èowyn stalked up to her brother, held a fistful of his tangled hair loosely in her hand, tensed her muscles, yanked and shrieked in his ear loudly, before pulling back, all in one motion.   
  
Èomer yelped and let go of Faramir. He made to go for his sword, missed, stumbled backwards over said man, woke him up, and fell to his backside. Ouch. 'Twas a sight.   
  
Pippin, on the other hand, had it easier. All he had to do was stumble over to his cousin and say: "Merry, Frodo's smoking your share of pipe-weed." The Hobbit was awake in seconds.   
  
_Crude, but effective. Hm._  
  
"Oh, shut up." Legolas said rudely.   
  
_Bite me, you prissy Elf._  
  
At this point, Gimli turned to the Frog. "Believe me, Master Frog, he will. And he bites hard." Legolas bared his teeth for emphasis.   
  
_ Oh, shut your face, you short dumbass. You all will be dealt with soon enough, once His Rubberiness gets here. You might not have to wait though, those two over there look unstable enough to run a sword through your guts._  
  
Chancing a look at the two Men and Hobbits seething with sleep and annoyance at being woken up (Faramir and Èomer especially).   
  
Èowyn took authority.   
  
"Oh, stop it, you four! You're acting worse than the twins of Elrond! CUT IT OUT!" she stalked over and forcefully yanked the Hobbits to their feet, slapping them all the way. Next, she walked over to her brother, yanked him up by his blonde hair and glared at him. Faramir's eyes widened at his wife's display, and he got to his feet instantly.   
  
_You humans are hopeless. It's nearly mid-day and you are still sleeping! God what an abominable, lazy race. __  
_  
"Oh, will you shut up already?" Faramir requested, none-too-polite.  
  
The High Cawona stuck his long, slimy tongue out at the Human. Then, it seemed to dawn on them where they were.  
  
"Chicken coop!" Pippin cried out ecstatically. "How clever!"  
  
_ Thanks, it was my idea._  
  
"No problem."  
  
The other six glared around at each other in stark terror. No one bothered to disguise the horror that they felt inside. What was to become of them once "his Rubberness" arrived?  
  
"Ahhmmm... Can you tell us... what the Chickens will do to us?" Èomer asked carefully, as if not wanting to know the answer. It was like looking at something creepy but fairly interesting that you just had the urge to touch.  
  
_If you do not find your soul mate you will go insane._  
  
"Then how come Èomer and Faramir aren't crazy?" Gimli complained.  
  
Eowyn frowned at this, saying, "Are we so sure about that?"  
  
_ Well... maybe... they have already found their soul mates._  
  
"No!" Èowyn now screamed. "I'm Faramir's soul mate?! This wasn't supposed to happen!"  
  
"What!" Faramir screamed back, not because she didn't think they were soul mates, but because of the disgust that was so obviously in her voice.  
  
"You actually think we're soul mates?" she moaned.  
  
"Hell no! What I do think is that you're regretting being with me in the first place!"  
  
"Well maybe I am!"  
  
"Well... well maybe I am too!"  
  
"Okay then!"  
  
"Okay!"  
  
"It's over!"  
  
"Okay!" he yelled back at her and turned around.  
  
_ Heh heh heh heh...__  
_  
"You shut up, fatty," he snipped.  
  
If frogs could look indignant, this one would be pulling one of the best impressions ever. Felligrhan huffed and blew a big raspberry at Faramir.  
  
The ex-husband and wife stomped over to opposites sides of the Chicken Coop and sat down heavily, arms crossed, glaring at one another. Èomer looked torn.   
  
"Augh! Can you two not get along?" Legolas practically yelled, switching his vision from Èowyn, to Faramir. He looked to Gimli for help. The dwarf sighed in defeat. Nothing was going their way. Damn Aragorn to Hell and back! What was he thinking when he sent them out on this mission!  
  
"Let them be, Elf. There's nothing we can do without getting ourselves brutally murdered."   
  
Well, in that Gimli was right. But, did Hobbits ever take not-so-subtle hints? No, I don't think so.  
  
Pippin walked over to the storming Èowyn. She glared venomously in his direction, but that did not daunt the brave and idiotic Hobbit. He poked a finger in her shoulder.  
  
"What is your problem?"   
  
Now, that was the Nazi to the Bomb.   
  
_ SHUT-UP!_ Felligrhan roared, before Èowyn could say anything. _His Rubberiness approaches. Try to smarten yourselves up.__  
_  
Looking at one another, they saw that they were indeed, covered in a manner of filth.   
  
**BRAWWWWWWWWK!!!**  
  
Startled, the seven jumped to their feet and looked around for the source of the noise.   
  
** "Felligrhan, treat our guests with more respect. Do not hasten yourselves, warriors. You look fine."**  
  
Pippin bowed low to the ground. Merry looked at him and kicked him slightly. "Get up, Pip!" he whispered harshly.   
  
** "Yes, Peregrin. Get up, no need for properness here, we're all quite daft."**  
  
"Now see here, you Rubber Chicken! I am not daft! I am Gimli son of Gloin! The only things crazy here are that damnable hygiene loving Elf, that crazy Rohirrim woman, and that damn Hobbit," said Dwarf drew himself up to his proud height of three foot seven, displaying his handsome beard.   
  
** "If you were not crazy, you would have been severely affected by the spells placed here by the Elves of old. Do not deny your insanity."**  
  
"He's right, you know. The Chastfire Snails told me so." Pippin proclaimed proudly. Èomer looked at him like an Orc. Roughly, he grabbed the Irish Hobbit and jerked him around roughly.  


"You knew! You knew all along this entire plan and you did not tell us! Traitor!" he threw Peregrin to the ground. Faramir put a hand on the Rohirrim's shoulder to calm him.   
  
Pippin was terrified. The seething King of Rohan looked ready to kill him. But, the soothing hand of the Gondorian calmed his primal instincts. He took a deep breath...and apologized to the Hobbit (see, quite mad, the lot).  
  
** "Yes, yes. Now, stand in awe as I come before you."**  
  
A terrific fanfare went up around them in the forest as the seven moved toward the wire of the Chicken Coop, trying to get a better look. The sea of Frogs in front of them parted and the giant heads were lowered.   
  
Dark and massive was the shadow that walked toward them. It walked with a grace unmatched by the fairest Elf (Legolas tried strangling me at this point), it's darkness was worse than Sauron himself (at this point, Sauron tried frying me alive), but the beauty of the thing was holy in itself.   
  
But, as it came toward the dying light, everyone saw a yellowish chicken standing before them, carrying a jeweled cane. It had a long white beared to match Gandalf's (I was almost turned into a newt), a purple, furred cape was dragging on the ground behind it. It's skin gave off a rubbery reflection when turned into the light. This was the fabled Rubber Chicken of Mikhai?  
**  
"Welcome, guests."**  
  
Three of the four seven fainted.   
  
  
//  
  
Author's Notes: Blah, blah, blah. Somewhat longer chapter, probably as crappy as the rest. Leave a review, please.


	4. Exit the Forest? What's the Catch?

**'The Quest for the Rubber Chickens of Mikhai'  
  
'Exit the Forest at Last? What's the Catch?'**  
  


Merry, Gimli and Èowyn lay flat on the ground, stock-still. The chicken before all seven shifted restlessly from one foot to the other.  
  
**"You folk are quite prone to fainting easily. How queer."**  
  
Èomer growled low in his throat.  
  
** "Calm, noble Rohirrim. I meant no offense, I was merely commenting on what I have observed."**  
  
"You've been watching us?" Legolas burst out. If someone had been following them, surely he would have heard. The idea of someone spying on him made him shudder. The Chicken turned its beady black eyes in his direction.  
  
"Legolas, this is an _enchanted_ forest. Of course someone is going to be watching us. Don't you listen to the fables? It's really common," Pippin said from his spot beside Faramir's leg.  
  
** "The Small One is wise in the ways of magic. Has he been offered a job somewhere?"  
**  
"I'm a soldier for Gondor," Pippin answered. The Chicken's face turned downcast on this news.  
  
**"Quite a pity. You would make a terrific Chicken."  
**  
"No kidding," muttered Faramir.  
  
"You flatter me," Pippin said bashfully.  
  
The Chicken shook its wise head. **"I speak the truth."  
**  
"I see..." said Pippin, not really seeing anything at all. He looked up at Faramir for help, but the man was avoiding his eye.  
  
A groaning sound came from the right; Merry and Gimli were waking.  
  
"Merry!" Pip yelled running to his friend. He helped Merry sit up and whispered something in his ear. The other Hobbit looked round before his eyes settled on the Chicken.  
  
"You!" he shrieked jumping up. "Get away from me!" he shut his eyes hard and scooted away from the front of the Coop. "Don't touch me!" he rolled himself into a fetal position, shaking.  
  
"What's wrong with him?" Èomer asked, a hint of worry noticeable.  
**  
"The forest is taking effect on him. He is hallucinating."**  
  
"Merry! These Chickens are good Chickens," Pippin tried, gently touching the other Hobbit's cold, sweaty, face.  
  
"No! I said I don't like beef stew!"  
  
He pulled his head back instantly. "Really?"  
  
"AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE-AYE!"  
  
Merry's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he began flicking his tongue out in rhythmic jolts and wiggles.  
  
Pippin went pale, turning to the Chicken. "We've got to get him out of here."  
  
The Chicken looked grave.  
  
** "I am afraid you cannot. At least not yet."**  
  
"Why?" Gimli, Legolas and Èomer squealed, suddenly alarmed. Can't get out? What? That wasn't right!  
  
** "Well, due to the defensive spell placed on the forest, you must regain sanity before leaving."**  
  
"But what about Merry?" Pippin cried. Tears began to stain the bottoms of his eyes a glassy, reflective white.  
  
** "I cannot tell you what would save Merriadoc,"** the Chicken replied**. "It is a personal reaction to the enchantment of the forest, there is no definite cure."  
**  
"If Merry turns into a Chicken, then I will with him!" Pippin declared in a new resolute voice.  
  
"Oh, shut up. You will not," grumbled Faramir. He looked at the Chicken with no fear or awe on his face, but harsh determination and malice. "Let us out of here, asshole. And you're coming with us." Not a request, but a demand.  
  
Pippin threw a rock at the man.  
  
"Don't talk that way to the Chicken!" Faramir turned to the small soldier. His eyes were a glowing green.  
  
"Don't talk that way to me, you snot-nosed Hobbit!" (Pippin hastily wiped his nose)  
  
"Faramir! Show some of the respect you give Aragorn to the Chicken! He is the one who has tried to protect us in the forest! Stop acting like your father!"  
  
All Hell broke loose.  
  
Faramir lunged at Pippin, who moved to the right so the man hit the wall of the Coop. He growled and turned, searching for the insulting Hobbit. He was hiding behind Èomer. The captain lunged again, trying to fake a right on said man. It almost worked, but at the last second, the Rohirrim's arm swung out and caught him across the chest. Then Èomer brought his other arm around to grasp Faramir's shoulder, pulling the other man away from Pippin.  
  
"You know he doesn't understand most of what he says,"  
  
"Let's put an end to this madness, starting with him! It's been driving me to the point of insanity even when we first started out on this quest! Now my wife has discarded me, I can't get that cursed Chicken-chant out of my head, my breath smells like ass, and I'm falling in love with a man! All because of THAT!" he jabbed a finger at the fluffy, rather innocent looking Chicken.  
  
"You've...fallen for a man?" Èomer asked, breathless.  
  
"Fallen...for...a--No! Mistake. I've umm..." he looked around desperately for an alibi. "Fallen for this groundhog!" Faramir picked up the newly discovered rodent that was now digging away at its hole in a terrified frenzy (I would be too...).  
  
"C'mere you," Faramir practically screamed. He picked it up by its thick neck and kissed it full on the face. Both he and the groundhog yelped.  
  
Èomer blinked, his jaw agape, with slight tears in his eyes. Pippin smiled successfully at Faramir's supposed new soul mate.  
  
Inwardly Faramir cringed at the huge lie he just told. Plus the fact that he had just kissed a groundhog.  
  
Sadly, he threw the creature to the ground. "Ok, not my soul-mate. Wrong person, my bad." Pippin cracked up and the Chicken looked smug. Èomer seemed to collapsed in unidentified relief.  
  
The Chicken coughed.  
  
**"If you'll turn your attention back to me...yes, that's better. Now, the most I can do for you now, are to let you out of that Coop. After that you are free to wander the forest. Remember, you cannot leave until sanity has been regained. And, I would not wander alone."**  
  
Èowyn sat up at the mention of 'let you out'. "We can leave?" she asked excitedly.  
  
Yellow-Bird swiveled his head to eye her. **"Had you not fainted, you would have heard the conversation following. I shall not explain it again."**  
  
The blonde eyed him hungrily. "Why you little-" the magic burst to life in her. "Hot, sexy pile of feathers!" she ran to the front of the Coop and kneeled before him. "My King!"  
  
"Well, it seems like she's over Aragorn," Legolas muttered to Gimli out of the corner of his mouth. The Dwarf nodded his agreement.  
  
**"Err, yeah..." Yellow-Bird muttered nervously, backing away. "Fellighran...let...these Men...out..." he gulped.**  
  
The Coop disappeared instantly, without a word of command. Heads turned in every direction, looking around and taking in their surroundings. Merry, Faramir and Pippin were still on the ground however, and they looked like they were going to move anytime soon, especially since Merry was still mumbling to himself.  
  
Èomer's sister took this opportunity to run after the Chicken with open arms. He squawked loudly and took off, flapping feebly in the other direction. The Cawona had disappeared sometime in the mess.  
  
"Well...uh...what now?" Pippin asked, scratching the back of his head. Èomer looked at him helplessly.  
  
"I think the best we can do is to get these two somewhere else, sleep then decide what to do in the morning. What about you, Faramir?" the Gondorian didn't answer. He stared after the spot where his ex-wife had disappeared to...after the Chicken. "Faramir?"  
  
The Rohirrim walked over and put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Are you okay?"  
  
"What do you think?" was the spat answer. Èomer sighed.  
  
"C'mon. We must find a somewhat safe spot to camp. The Halflings are worse off than we," he offered his hand, which was gratefully, but somewhat reluctantly taken. Faramir made a point of avoiding the other's eyes. Once up, he stormed over to the place where Merry lay curled up, picked him off the ground and flung him over his shoulder, before walking off in some random direction. Èomer stared after him somewhat sadly.  
  
"You love him, don't you?" Pippin asked quietly, plucking himself up, brushing off his behind. Èomer sighed.  
  
"Yes, I do. I don't know why. Something about his mysterious ways, his brooding moods and his stunning beauty draw me to him. It's like a tug of Elven rope that refuses to let go," he explained, choosing his words carefully. Pippin nodded in complete understanding.  
  
"Then let's go after them, so we don't-"  
  
"Are you two coming or not?" Faramir yelled from somewhere to their left. Both sighed again and started after him.  
  
It was pitch black when they found a spot that Pippin declared was safe enough for them to rest without worry. (They think he still had a snail concealed somewhere in his clothes)  
  
Faramir set Merry down gently, covering the little Hobbit with his long sleeved tunic. The cool night air did not bother him one bit. Casually, Pippin went around collecting bits of wood, and started a small, but warming fire. Then he lay down beside his Hobbit-buddy and went to sleep.  
  
That left Èomer and Faramir awake.  
  
The sound of night birds echoed through a permanent wind that blew thick at the bottom of the forest. It swirled devilishly around the two men who sat across from one another in the fire, enticing the want for soft caresses, kisses of heat and longing, and the feverish feeling of being so dangerously close to that other person.  
  
That fever reflected in Èomer's eyes as he stared across the whipping flames at Faramir.  
  
"It is so calm," Faramir breathed, his eyes closed as he turned his head to let the chilly breeze cool his fire-heated face. "Like an Elven song."  
  
"Nay, to me it is anything but calming," replied Èomer. "It awakens me, it brings me to see my soul with clarity now."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I believe I have found the one that I am bound to by soul," Èomer said with a boldness that he did not feel. He stared into Faramir's icy eyes.  
  
Faramir blinked. "Èomer, I believe you're getting a boner."  
  
"What? Oh, no, that snail's still there." He reached down into his pants, grimaced, and pulled out the snail that must have came off of Pippin. He stared at it in wonder before throwing it to the floor and squashing it with a satisfying splat. "And I thought I was getting that genital disease."  
  
"Maybe you are. It still looks pretty swollen."  
  
"Let's forget about that. Faramir, the feeling I get with you is indescribable. It has been a love that I have tried to quench since the time I first met you. But it has only grown since then. The forest has brought it out to practically an unbearable burden. Unless I hear the same from you."  
  
The Gondorian was silent at these soft words; he sat there staring into the storm cloud eyes of the Rohirrim. Èomer looked away, his mind already set on taking the rejection. He breathed in heavily and got up from the ground, walking in the opposite direction from where his true love sat. His guard was down, tears were glinting in his eyes, and his loins weren't easing the pain.  
  
Suddenly, he felt a small hand on his wrist, pulling him around. He only had seconds to glimpse the ginger colored hair of the man he had poured his heart to, before he was shoved roughly against a tree, chapped lips delectably covering his own.  
  
"You," Faramir said against his lips, "are to be the love of my life." Then he delved into Èomer's mouth with a sudden urgency, ripping open the loose ties of his shirt and gliding his hands over the man's rock- hard pecs.  
  
Èomer tilted his head back and accepted the passionate embrace, pulling himself into Faramir more closely so they were comforted by each other's heat in the biting cold. He reached down to Faramir's slim waist and grasped it, enjoying the feeling of the solid weight of his manhood against Èomer's own.  
  
Now Faramir's mouth was plunging down the side of his neck. He playfully nibbled Èomer's collarbone, eliciting a deeper, more gravelly moan from the back of his throat.  
  
Èomer was clearly enjoying the attention his muscled chest was getting. The wavering heat pouring from off both their bodies, and clashing; mixing together before dissipating.  
  
Then, Faramir was at his navel, brushing a hand against his lower stomach. The Rohirrim spasmed slightly and snorted in laughter. Faramir paused and looked up, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"Is someone slightly ticklish?" he taunted, jabbing his fingers lightly on the spot. This time, Eomer giggled, folding at the stomach.  
  
"D-don't...do that!" he squeaked, sending Faramir into bouts of laughter.  
  
"Looks like I've found your weak spot," he chuckled. "Shall we see if I can find another?" he whispered seductively in the other's ear. Èomer shivered considerably and moaned at the thought of what this man could do to him.  
  
The Rohirrim recovered quickly, however and was now able to look Faramir in the eye. "Most certainly, but it should probably be taken away from the campsite. Don't want to scar any innocent Hobbit minds, do we?" he grinned, the devil winds fierce within him.  
  
"Innocent? I think not." Faramir pointed to the other side of the fire, where Merry and Pippin's silhouette could clearly be seen. It seemed Pippin was having fun raping the now-awake and alert Merry. But then again, there didn't seem to be much protest from the receiving side.  
  
"Still..." Èomer said, trying to keep his face straight. The image of two Hobbits having sex was too funny.  
  
"Then we will go to the hot springs," was the answer. He put an arm around the other man's waist, rubbing his hipbone with his thumb in circular motions. Èomer laid a less-aggressive hand behind Faramir's neck and they walked on.  
  
By the time they got into the spring, Èomer's pants and Faramir's entire outfit had been discarded to the side. The Gondorian was delighted to find that the guy went commando (what else could they go?) for most of the time, and as soon as they climbed into the warm, clear water, he attacked the lower half of Èomer's body.  
  
He took the King's wealth into his hands and could barely contain himself as his hand stroked the hardening skin. There was no need for the receiving party to rise to attention, though, and his body began to squirm in pleasure to Faramir's sensual touch. He threaded his hands through the ginger locks of his lover and kissed him deeply, bucking his hips to gain more friction.  
  
Faramir continued his ministrations, kissing the Rohirrim back harshly, with quick nips. The other's lips dripped out a bit of blood, which was sucked dry immediately.  
  
As the Gondorian sped up, Èomer's thrusts became rougher and more needy.  
  
Then, it was stopped.  
  
Èomer cracked open an eye and looked down at Faramir, who was looking at him with dark blue, lust-filled eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat.  
  
"Please, Èomer, I need you. I want you to take me, make me bleed, make me scream your name in pleasure and pain." The other man nodded, not quite grasping what had just been requested, but pulled him over to the east bank anyway. Once there, he lifted Faramir out of the water and laid him on the bank, climbing in between the other's legs.  
  
The other's manhood stood tall and proud in the moonlight, just inviting Eomer's mouth to devour him whole. He did so, making Faramir groan in surprise and ecstasy. He flicked his tongue around and underneath the layer of skin that covered the head. He swallowed as much as he could, willing his gag reflex to not react. Then he went back up, teeth grazing the skin ever so lightly.  
  
Now it was Faramir's turn to giggle. The feeling was tingly and erotic. It turned him on more, but before he could think about any of it, Èomer pulled away, leaving him cold and horny.  
  
"On your knees." he ordered in his most Kingly voice. It was done so submissively, and teasingly. Faramir turned too slow for Eomer's liking. The wind kissed his face and newly exposed ass sweetly. (New meaning to the phrase 'kiss my ass'). Breathing heavily, Èomer leaned over to Faramir's ear. "Prep or no?" said man could only shake his head. "So be it."  
  
He grabbed the other's hips in a death-grip and thrust in roughly. Faramir groaned in pain, but it was quickly replaced by an enormous amount of pleasure as Èomer started jerking himself in and out harshly, grinding heavily. The soothing night air-cooled their bodies a bit, but both were still covered in a slick sheen of sweat.  
  
"H-harder. Please, Èomer. Make me scream your name!" Faramir all but shouted. His demand was granted with equal passion, the King losing it all and pounding into his love with reckless abandon. Boromir's brother moaned Èomer's name loudly, his hand moving toward his own length. It was jerked away as the Rohirrim's strong, calloused hand took over.  
  
They both were lost in a round world of hazy passion, moaning each other's name loudly, and breathing heavily. Faramir's climax came faster than expected, bathing the sand below him in the sticky, white substance. His velvet inner walls clenched down on Èomer's own manhood, squeezing and rubbing it, bringing him to the point of completion. He shot his load into the Gondorian's tight passage, moaning his name loudly.  
  
Faramir collapsed to his stomach, Èomer on top. It was a few minutes before Eomer pulled out and rolled over, pulling his lover into a tight, possessive embrace. The King kissed the top of Faramir's head, mumbling something incoherent before drifting off into the bliss of sleep.  
  
"Yeah, I love you, too," Faramir whispered back, the words muffled by the arm covering his mouth. He, too, was soon asleep.  
  


**"Jeez, it took 'em long enough, don't you think?"**  
  
Yellow-bird turned to the woman laying next to him, but she was sound asleep.  
**  
"Humans...no stamina at all..."**  
  
//  
  
Authors Notes: Ah! The plot thickens a bit! Faramir and Èomer are together, Pippin and Merry are together. Èowyn ran off after the Chicken and...hey! What happened to Gimli and Legolas? You'll find out in the next chapter...please read and review!


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